Burn
by White Lioness Spirit
Summary: The Avengers- Their chemistry burns so strongly that only the smallest spark is needed to set them ablaze. Clint/Natasha one-shot.


_**Burn**_

There were still times when she woke in the night, tangled in sheets soaked with sweat, trembling and afraid. This was one of those unfortunate nights. Loki's cruel words ran through her mind over and over, chilling her to her very core. True, she'd only approached him to trick him into giving up whatever warped plan he had concocted. It had, of course, worked. She was always very convincing and sly. Still, his words had cut deep. Hearing Loki speak of the plan had in store for her and Clint still haunted her. The tears in her eyes had been very real.

It still irked her that she'd shown weakness in front of Loki. She always prided herself on being professional, and it wasn't professional to shed tears on the job. '_A mewling quim,'_ he'd called her. That rankled too, especially since she had looked up the meaning of the words online.

She sighed, her breath shaky, and pushed her damp hair off her face with trembling hands. Loki's wicked words conjured the worst nightmares. She could still see those eerie blue, possessed eyes in Clint's face. In her nightmares they were fueled by viciousness and rage when he tried to kill her. Sometimes he did, _painfully and intimately_, as Loki said he would_._ Those nightmares were the worst. Those were the times that she woke with tear-streaked cheeks, the moistness just starting to dry and the salt marking her pale skin.

She waited until her heart stopped thudding and her breathing softened and returned to normal, before she kicked back her clammy blankets. She sat on the edge of her bed, her face buried in her hands. All of a sudden the room was closing in on her. She needed to get out. She jumped her feet and crossed to the bathroom. The reflection that greeted her in the mirror was firmly on the ghastly side. Her hair was a disheveled mess; her eyes blood shot, her face drawn and blotchy.

The nightmare was still with her. She'd been facing off with Clint. Those awful blue eyes of his were almost rabid, fired with mindless rage. Those eyes terrified her. _"Please Clint," she begged. "Remember. Remember who you are. Remember who I am. It's me, Natasha. Please, Clint, you know me."_

_He smiled then, a wide macabre leer, promising unspeakable dire things for her. "Natasha," he whispered. He sidled closer, his hands hidden from view. _

_She backed away, before pulling out her gun. "Stay where you are, Clint!"_

_Clint stopped dead in his tracks, those eyes that weren't his trained on her gun. He laughed, a deep nasty sound. "You won't shoot me."_

"_Don't make me." Natasha's hands quivered slightly as she spoke. _

_Clint never lost that manic grin. He approached her, slowly. "I know you. I know everything about you, Natasha." He drew her name out, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He licked his lips lasciviously._

_Her hands were sweaty, and she fumbled with her gun, almost dropping it. Her flesh prickled with goose bumps as she trembled. "Clint." Her voice was a whisper._

_He sprang. He caught her full around the waist and dragged her down. He grappled for her throat, but she managed to smash the butt of her gun across his temple. He rolled off her with a groan, and she tried to scramble to her feet, but Clint's hand snaked out and wrapped around her ankle, pulling her off balance. She landed on top of him and thrashed about._

_Clint laughed. "Ooh, do that again. I've always wanted you on top of me, Natasha."_

_Fury found a way to her through the fear. She lashed out and punched him full in the face. His nose broke with a sharp crack. He yelled in pain and Natasha took the opportunity to drive her fist into his stomach. Clint curled in on himself with a snarl of rage, while Natasha regained her footing. She backed away panting and quivering all over._

_Clint tried to force himself to his feet, but Natasha pivoted on her foot and knocked him back down. She sobbed for breath, while groping on the floor for her gun. Clint moved suddenly and a bright blinding pain filled her senses. She collapsed onto her backside with a grunt, her hand rose to the silver knife embedded in her shoulder. She stared in horror at the dark red blood seeping from the wound._

_Clint knocked her down, and pinned her to the floor. Her feeble struggles only made him snicker. He leaned down and pressed his face against her neck. Tears rolled down her face, and she bit her full bottom lip to keep from sobbing out loud. Clint's hand slipped from her arm, up her chest, to the knife. He twisted it and she shrieked. He began to grind his hips against hers and grinned down at her, his mouth bleeding and his nose dripping. Splatters of blood hit her face, and ran into her mouth. The metallic taste made her gag._

"_Clint, please," she whimpered._

_Clint kissed her, his tongue forcing itself into her mouth. He pulled back with a moan, and yanked the knife out of her shoulder. A fresh cry ripped free from Natasha's throat before Clint brought the knife down into her throat. His mocking laughter filled her ears as she choked on her own lifeblood._

She splashed her face with cold water, hoping it would wash the dream from her memory. Unfortunately, it was false hope. She slammed both hands against the sink in anger and stalked out of the room in a huff, snatching her robe off the floor as she went. She wrenched her bedroom door open and slammed it behind her.

Since The Avengers had parted ways, she and Clint had returned to the base S.H.I.E.L.D. was keeping until the new base in New York was ready. There was no rest for them. There was always work to do, even if it didn't involve an insane Norse god and his alien army.

The hallway was dark and cold. The floor chilled her bare feet, but that relaxed her, in fact it did more for than the cold water had. She pulled her black robe tight about her and padded down the hall quietly. She wasn't really paying attention to where she was going. She just needed to clear her head. The quiet halls and darkness helped with that. The feeling of being alone was oddly soothing. She reached into her pockets and savored the feeling of the butt of her twin guns. They were hard and chilly against the soft skin of her palms. Knowing that she was armed made her feel more calm and confident. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent never went anywhere unarmed. After all, their work was perilous. There was no telling just when they would be in danger and need their weapons. Though that hadn't helped Clint when Loki had controlled him.

'_No,'_ she thought furiously._ 'Don't think of that. Not again. Loki is gone and Clint is back.'_ She didn't want to dwell on that. _'That way is fraught with danger.'_

A noise behind her made her stiffen, and she whipped around, pulling out her guns in a perfectly fluid motion. Clint peered out into the hall, his eyes widening when he saw her standing there, guns drawn. He was clad only in a pair of soft gray sweat pants. "Natasha?" his voice was low and curious. "What are you doing?"

Natasha dropped her hands to her sides. "I couldn't sleep. What are you doing up at this hour, Clint?"

The light from his room cast a bright glow over him. Natasha blinked at the sudden glare. Clint's eyes looked her up and down. He paused for a minute before replying, "I couldn't sleep either. I thought I heard a noise from your room."

She returned her weapons to her pockets and approached him. He wasn't a tall man, only a few inches taller than her if that. Clint stepped to the side, allowing Natasha access to his room. He held his hands out in invitation, but wore no smile. "After you." When Natasha made no movement he said, "C'mon, Natasha, you can't stay out here. It's freezing."

She stepped into his room, her feet loving the warmth of the shabby worn carpet. She stood awkwardly to the side while Clint pulled his door closed and faced her. He gestured to the bed, and when he sat down upon it he patted the space beside him. Natasha silently took him up on his offer and sat beside him, aware of how warm the bed was. Sitting in such close proximity to him was making something stir inside her. She could see his bare chest out the corner of her eye. The coils of muscle in his arms, the faint white scars on his bare chest. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. She bit the inside of her lip hard.

The silence in the hall had been welcoming. The silence in here was pressing and frayed her nerves. She could hear Clint's rough, unsteady breathing perfectly. She could see that his head was bowed; he was staring at his tightly knitted hands. His brown hair was ruffled as though he had repeatedly ran his hands through it. "So," he finally said, his face still hidden from her sight, "what happened?"

The stirring in the pit of her gut intensified. Her lips suddenly felt so dry, and her throat so tight. She licked them and softly cleared her throat. "I had a bad dream."

His lifted his head then, looking straight into her eyes. His gray eyes were narrowed but brimming with inquisitiveness. She must have looked frightened, because he asked her gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She let out a sigh she didn't realize she'd been holding. "I… I dreamed that… you… killed me." She was the one to hide her face this time. She wound her fingers together and focused on them. "When we held Loki he told me that he'd make you kill me." Her voice broke.

"Bastard." Clint's voice dripped acid. Natasha knew that he still felt angry about what had happened.

"It doesn't matter. It was just a dream. Loki's gone now."

"Is he?" Clint's gray eyes were hard. "What if he comes back?"

"Then we'll defeat him again. We did it once, we can do it again." She reached out and laid her hands over his. He shifted one hand out and laid it over hers, squeezing tenderly. "So, why couldn't you sleep?"

"I was thinking about how I woke up, after you knocked me out, and you were right there. Just watching me."

Natasha remembered that too. How happy and relieved she had been when he had opened his eyes and they had been their normal gray. She could also remember sitting beside him, the musky smell of his sweat on the air. Her lips parted several times, but she couldn't summon the words. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her. She looked into his eyes, her blue eyes wide. A heat roared up inside her, though she fought to extinguish it. That would make things all the more complicated.

"Natasha," Clint's voice was low and husky.

"Yes, Clint?"

He shifted towards her ever so slightly. He looked as apprehensive as Natasha felt. His hand rose to cup her face. The heat inside her exploded into a wild fire. She leaned into him and caught his lips in a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, binding him to her. His hands were cupping her face, tangling in her cherry red hair. When she broke away it was Clint who took the initiative. "You're so god damn beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He pulled her back to him. He lowered her onto the bed, his hands gripping her hips tightly. They broke off their fervent kissing, and Clint loomed over her, breathing hard.

"Are you ok?"

Natasha nodded, her chest heaving. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, but it felt as good and so right. She had to give voice to her concerns though, lest they devour her. "This… what we're doing. I don't… it's just…"

"You don't want this to affect our friendship, or our work." Natasha nodded, thankful he understood. "I don't want that either," he admitted. His eyes searched her face.

She put her hands on his shoulders and ran them up and down. She half expected to see tongues of flame rise from his flesh. Clint leaned back down and kissed her again before he drew back an inch, looking intently at her. She made up her mind then. "It won't," she murmured. She pulled his mouth back against hers.

His hands slipped under her gown, easily sliding it from her shapely figure. Their hands slid over each other, pulling off clothing and exploring the skin beneath. Their eyes never broke contact. The fire inside her roared so strongly, and she knew Clint could feel it. She knew he could feel it burning through her pale skin when their bodies joined. His head pressed against her neck, his breath ticking her skin. She gasped and moaned in his ear, their breath mingling together. They kissed again, their bodies curling around each other.

And the fire burned on.


End file.
